Circles
by rhead-a-holyc
Summary: There were things that Tom did that Harry didn't approve of, and Harry knew that he always, perhaps foolishly, forgave Tom. But he couldn't continue supporting Tom when his actions would eventually kill people. Slash.


Harry stared at the mess that was what remained of their latest argument: a room of jagged edges, and misunderstandings, and _anger_. Tom had only just stormed out to do whatever he usually did after one of their arguments, presumably something Harry would never approve of just to spite him. That tended to be Tom's reaction whenever he was upset with Harry, but this time was one of the few times that Harry equally upset with him.

If this was all they would ever be, Harry wanted out… but, it wasn't. There were good times, but Harry didn't know if those few moments were worth all this pain anymore.

There was that dull feeling of exhaustion that never left him to the point where even something as simple as a smile took too much energy, too much effort. It was like he had been run dry, little more than a holey bucket that was trying to retain the water that was being poured into it. It wouldn't last, _he_ wouldn't last if they continued like this.

A few flicks of his wand had the room returning to its usual state, all the brokenness restored so easily that it made Harry ache. He was glad that they were still in Hogwarts for what was probably the first time in many years. It meant that they didn't _have_ to spend every minute in each other's presence, and they would have enough time to calm down before they were forced to see each other again. It helped that there weren't many classes that they shared, with Tom being a Slytherin and him being a Gryffindor.

Hesitating, Harry swished his wand one last time, all his belongings packing themselves neatly into the trunk that had settled itself at his feet. He wouldn't be able to stay here like this. Seeing Tom again would set him off in another blaze of fury, and neither of them needed that right now (even if Tom deserved it, in Harry's opinion).

Opening the Chamber of Secrets was one thing, and Harry had understood the curiosity to find Salazar Slytherin's secrets, but allowing the basilisk to roam the walls of Hogwarts was not something Harry would ever be able to support. There were people being petrified, and no one doubted that there would eventually be a death—except Tom, who seemed to believe he could control the serpent. Animals always had minds of their own, though, and no human would ever be able to truly control them.

His bed was still waiting for him in the Gryffindor dormitory, untouched for weeks already. It may as well have been a spare bed, something Harry would have believed had he not known that the house elves ensure only the required number of everything remained. It seemed as if Hogwarts herself had known that he would be in need of his dorm bed.

Harry knew that the lions would take the opportunity to rub his return in Tom's face, and usually that would upset him, but Harry couldn't bring himself to care about that anymore. If it made Tom's life more difficult, then he probably deserved it. Harry wasn't about to help him with any of it until he swore on his magic to stop his madness.

The trunk slammed closed with an air of finality, and disappeared moments later. Harry knew it had been returned to its position at the foot of his dorm bed. The house elves never missed a beat. The prefect's room portrait swung shut behind Harry, and Harry forced himself to straighten his spine from his miserable slouch.

Tom could go ahead and do whatever he pleased. Harry wasn't going to care about his actions. No, it was time that Harry cultivated the self-preserving Slytherin the Sorting Hat had seen in him over seven years ago. He would cultivate those perfect masks right in the middle of the Lion's Den, and no one would know any better.

Being with Tom had introduced him to a great many people from all four houses, many of whom had fallen over themselves to be in Tom's favour, but there were a few that Harry had found himself becoming friends with—many of whom had been neutral towards Tom's views.

That would be where he would start. The Ravenclaws would assist with his knowledge base, while the Hufflepuffs would help his cover while offering him a fierce friendship he would be hard-pressed to find elsewhere. It would be the Slytherins who he would approach last, to refine his masks. They were the best trained in the entire school; if he managed to fool them, then he could fool anyone.

Harry forced his mind away from the one person he wanted desperately to think about. It wouldn't do him any good to think about Tom now, not when Tom wouldn't listen to a word he said and wanted only an apology for something that was most certainly not Harry's fault. Tom may have become accustomed to people bowing and backing down in his presence, but Harry wasn't that person, and Tom had known that from the start.

Muttering the password to the Gryffindor common room, some Latin phrase that Harry wasn't entirely certain of the meaning, Harry stepped over the threshold as if he had been doing so all year. He forced himself to ignore the quietening of the common room as he moved towards the stairs.

"Harry! I saw your trunk at the bottom of your bed when I went up just now. Are you moving back in?" Seamus called, his eyes already on the exploding snap game he was playing with Dean.

"Yeah. We haven't much more time until we graduate, and who knows where the rest of you lot are going to end up? I can't abandon you lot for the last couple of months!" Harry joked back, meeting Neville's smile from across the room. "The house elves seemed to have known what I wanted before I did!"

"The house elves are brilliant like that! Although, it's a bit creepy sometimes. I remember waking up really thirsty once, and there was a pitcher of water on my bedside!" Dean informed them seriously. "I was starting to wonder if the house elves even need sleep. You're never going to win, Seamus!"

"As if you'll beat me with your cheap tactics!"

Harry slipped out of the room as soon as he was certain that the attention was drawn back to the duo. His bed would be perfectly made, and ready for him to just fall into it, Harry knew that, but he hadn't come up to sleep. He didn't think he would be able to sleep, knowing what Tom was probably planning right that moment.

If the path he was choosing now meant that he would have to fight Tom down the road, then so be it, but putting other people in danger wasn't something Harry would be able to live with himself knowing.

But for now, until he was able to face both himself and Tom again, he would drown himself in the knowledge he had been so resistant to learning. It was the same way he had escaped the Dursleys when he realised that the way they treated him was not the way family treated each other.

It seemed that everything came back in circles.

* * *

 **Written for OTP Boot Camp: Jagged**


End file.
